Just Those Rainy Days
by Kindle-Flower
Summary: Huey hates thunderstorms. Jasmine finds peace in them. Can a single mulatto change a young man's perspective? A one-shot story of friendship and comforting. Slightly based on events from my own life.


This is my first fan fiction to be published online, so please bear with me. This story was inspired by some events in my own life (less tragic ones) and the song, which took the title place. Feel free to read and review. I'd greatly appreciate it.

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><p>A purple-white whip of electricity seared through the sky, releasing a mighty booming cry in the after effects of its wake. Huey flinched. He attempted to bury his nose deeper into his book, but found that it was to no avail. He hated thunderstorms. They always reminded him of what he had lost.<p>

The 10-year-old mocha skinned child could always sense when a storm was near. He felt it in the hairs on the back of his neck. He smelled them in the atmosphere. His heartbeat quickened, and his breathing became erratic. Tiny droplets of sweat popped from his flesh and clung to his skin like terrified animals begging not to be abandoned. Huey forced himself into his default calm state every time, however, refusing to give in to his emotions. A little rain and lighting was not going to be the end of him. The young African-American boy pressed on, his maroon eyes boring into the pages of the autobiography he gripped just a little too tightly in his small hands.

Huey wasn't afraid of thunderstorms. He liked to think he lived his life without fears, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe that either. He just didn't like them. It was a strange thing to think, considering most people would assume that this boy enjoyed anything normal people didn't. Why wouldn't Huey love the dark, ominous clouds, the eerie howls of wind, the constant rapping of rain pounding against any and everything below the heavens? In truth, none of those things bothered him. He didn't mind the darkness. He wasn't annoyed by the wind. The rain wasn't what dragged his soul into despair. It was the lightning.

As if on cue, another hair of white-hot currency broke the cloud barrier and a clap of thunder followed its presence. Huey hissed, partially in frustration and partially from… habit? Discourse? Bemusement? No, he couldn't be afraid of a little storm. Huey was only ten, but he could easily quote the statistics on being struck by lightning. He attempted to reassure himself that he was taking all the necessary measures to lessen his chances of endangerment. He was inside his house. Nothing was on that would attract a strike. He was a good distance away from any windows, and his shoes had rubber soles. He almost groaned at that last thought. _Rubber soles? _Shaking his head, he finally set the book down, giving up on welcoming distractions. He lay back against his bed's headboard, sighing despondently.

The pounding on the front door snapped him out of his misery. Huey blinked rapidly, turning his head to look at the clock. It was dark out, but that was only because of cloud coverage. Had it been a regular day, the summer sun would still be high in the sky, given it was only four in the afternoon. Huey pursed his lips, debating on letting whoever it was at the door stay outside until they gave up and went home. Riley and Granddad weren't there with him. Riley decided to go over to Cindy's house to play basketball and videogames and Granddad was with Ruckus playing chess. The afro clad boy closed his eyes, trying once again to ignore the world around him.

The knocking at the door persisted, only being momentarily drowned out by the blinding light and screams of thunder. Hue jumped up from the bed. Not from being started by the lightning, he told himself. He was going to answer the door. Trotting down the stairs, Huey made his way to the front door, where the knocking kept going at a steady pace. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…

_I swear, I'm going to hear that rapping at the door in my sleep_, Huey thought. Edgar Allen Poe suddenly came to the young man's mind, but he quickly shook the images of ravens and ghosts and impossibly stupid phenomenon out of his head before he grabbed the handle and threw the door open to greet his guest.

"It's about time you opened up! I'm soaked!" A head of wet, curly cinnamon hair flew in past him, heading straight for the living room. She plopped down on the couch, her pink raincoat splashing water droplets over the couch. Shaking her head and arms like a dog, she continued to spray the entire living room in rain water as she dried herself off. When she was done, she lifted her head to her 10-year-old companion and smiled brightly. "Don't you just love thunderstorms?"

"No I don't, Jasmine," Huey replied, carefully sitting next to his friend on the couch. He eyed her with disgust, mostly at the fact that she was still wet.

"Aw, you're no fun. Then again, it's not like you really like anything anyway," Jasmine sighed, grabbing her puffy hair between her small mulatto hands. She gave it a good ring, releasing a small waterfall of wetness onto the carpet. "Still, I'm kind of surprised. I would've thought you loved thunderstorms at least."

Huey made to reply, but another stroke of lightning passed over, and the resulting thunder made him flinch instead. Jasmine was too busy reestablishing the curls of her hair to notice. Huey silently sighed, and tried again for an answer. "Why would I love thunderstorms? They're noisy, distracting, and apparently send little girls running into my house out of fear."

Jasmine turned her emerald eyes to Huey, her face puffed out in defiance. "I'm not afraid! I love thunderstorms! Daddy always told me that the thunder was God bowling with the angels. It's a pretty funny thought, don't you think?"

_No, it isn't. _Huey didn't think so, but he kept his thoughts to himself, choosing instead to respond silently with his usual scowl.

"I came over because I was bored," Jasmine continued. She was used to the silent treatment from Huey by now. "Mommy and Daddy are both at work, and I can't go to the hill because of the weather. I would've gone to Cindy's except she lives too far away and when I called, she said she was playing videogames with Riley. So I thought, why not come over and play with you?" She beamed at the mocha-skinned boy, as if expecting praise for having a fantastic idea.

Huey grunted, rolling his eyes. Somewhere in the recedes of his mind, he was glad for the company, but on the surface, he only conveyed annoyance. He chose to welcome the distraction that was his neighbor and best friend in the only way he knew how. "Playing with electronics in a thunderstorm is dangerous. Electrical outlets attract lightning with their positive neurons and may result in a house getting hit and frying all your stuff. Not to mention the potential of getting hit yourself which—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. No TV, no videogames, no nothing with the electronics. Got it." Jasmine waved her hand dismissively at her friend's rant. Sometimes, that boy could go on forever about things. Jasmine enjoyed how smart Huey was, though. In the small while she'd known him, he'd taught her so much about the world around her. Sure, he made her cry a lot, but in reality, she appreciated his honesty too much to let him go. She knew that, in his own way, Huey was always trying to encourage her and lift her out of her cloud of self-doubt and naivety. She also knew when he was trying to distract her. "So what do you want to do, then?" she asked, blinking up at him innocently.

"Nothing." His response was immediate, and probably too well-timed. He glanced nervously outside at the blue-black clouds rolling along in the windy sky. Suddenly they lit up with a ferocity of white light and a blast of thunder erupted, shattering the sound barrier, and shaking the very grounds on which the two ten-year-olds sat. Huey bolted off the couch instantly. Releasing a breath he had no idea he was holding, he tried to look anywhere but at Jasmine. He knew she was staring at him curiously—probably with worry etched on her face—and his mind tried it's best to weave together an excuse or explanation of any sort in its fragile state. "I-it's directly over us now. When you see lightning and hear thunder at the same time like that, it means you're in the eye of the storm."

Jasmine said nothing for a moment as she stared at the boy in front of her. She could see his intense gaze avoiding contact with her curious one. His body language was tense, and his hands were curled defensively into fists. If she looked close enough, she could see the goose bumps on his arms and the hairs standing on end at the nape of his neck. Sweat clung to his skin like a shiny film. His jaw was clamped shut, as if to hold in the cries he refused to let out. Huey was scared. She smiled, and reached out for his hand, cupping his fist between her palms.

Huey looked down at their touching hands, and felt relief wash over him. It was awkward, but refreshing. At times like this, the mocha-colored boy remembered why he constantly put up with Jasmine, despite her naïve views and annoying demeanor. She understood him. He didn't need to use his words with her; she guessed his thoughts through his body language and aptly responded to his needs every single time. The boy relished the moment for a small while before sighing and uncurling his fist, to allow the mulatto to properly hold his hand.

"I'm not afraid," he stated defiantly.

"I know," Jasmine replied. "You're just a little shook up." She patted his hand in a maternal gesture, and Huey couldn't help but bring to mind another woman who would've probably done the same thing. "Why don't you like thunderstorms?"

In retrospect, he probably should've known she'd eventually ask that question. It wasn't that he ever really instructed her about such things, but it was an unspoken rule between them that she couldn't cross certain lines with their friendship. This was one of those lines. Huey knew she didn't know what she was really asking, but his response was innate. Jerking his hand from hers, he turned away, his back facing her. He crossed his arms against his chest, his pose stoic and far too refined for his age. "It's none of your business, Jasmine."

She knew this pose. She knew this reaction. She knew she'd overstepped her boundaries with her innocent question, but this time, Jasmine refused to back down. The rain outside steadily poured, and another whip-crack of lightning and thunder shook the ground and discolored the scene in a flash around them. Jasmine flinched, and saw Huey do the same. She wasn't afraid, though. Lifting her weight off the couch, the mulatto silently made her way over to the boy, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug.

Huey suppressed a sob. Damn it all, he was scared. He hated thunderstorms. He hated showing fear. He hated being wrong about himself. But more than anything, he hated how much Jasmine was reminding him of his… Whipping around, Huey grabbed Jasmine by her shoulders, pushing her back slightly, but not letting her go. Wine colored eyes captured emerald ones as another stroke of lightning lit the sky and a roll of thunder fell upon them. They flinched simultaneously at the noise and feeling, but never broke their gaze. Huey drew in a breath, preparing himself for his next words. They came out slow, unsure, and cracked under the strain of his fear.

"If I tell you this… you can't tell anyone else. It's our secret, okay?"

Jasmine nodded with so much enthusiasm, Huey scarcely thought she'd knock her own head off her shoulders. Before he could react further, the girl thrust her pinky finger in his face as an offering.

"Pinky swear," she explained when he raised an eyebrow at her gesture. He wanted to roll his eyes, but stopped himself as he latched his pinky to hers and gave a firm shake, confirming their deal. Stepping back, he let his hands slide off her shoulders with a sigh. Huey gave her a final unreadable look before launching his explanation.

"Thunderstorms remind me of my parents." Huey looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with Jasmine as he expressed his vulnerability. "We were at Granddad's old apartment in Chicago. They went out for dinner. They used to go out at least once a week together. I was five and Riley was three. I was begging them not to go that night. Riley was crying." He slowly made his way back over to the couch and sank down into its plush cushions. Jasmine followed suit as the afro haired boy continued.

"I was mad at them for something, and… my mom yelled at me. She never yelled at me before." Huey paused, closing his eyes and recalling the memories to the surface. "I called them selfish. I picked up Riley and took him to the room and slammed the door. I didn't want to talk to them, so they left. I heard them tell Granddad they wouldn't be long." The boy sighed, opening his eyes to glance at Jasmine.

The girl sat next to him with wide eyes. A plethora of emotions swam inside her green orbs: confusion, empathy, curiosity…. Sadness. Huey looked away as he continued.

"I think the lightning must've startled them. Close by, the report states a tree got hit by a strike or something. Their car hit a wet patch in the road and my dad overcorrected on the turn. They flipped six times and hit a tree. My dad died instantly. My mom… died sometime after the ambulance came on the scene." He told the story almost like he was stating his facts about lightning strikes earlier. Jasmine could hear the subtle differences, though. His voice was quieter. His demeanor was softer. His dark eyes showed more emotion than they ever had in all the moments she'd known him.

She didn't know what else to do, so she wrapped her arms around him again. He responded by putting his head on her shoulder. She said nothing when she felt wetness on her skin. She was still wet from the rain outside anyway. Stroking his afro, she cooed sweetly as she held her friend and lightning continued to dance across the cloudy banks of sky.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

And for the first time in many years, Huey thought it might be. He no longer saw the white light. He didn't hear the booming claps of thunder. He didn't feel the shaking earth beneath him. He just breathed in the scent of strawberries and peace and Jasmine.

They stayed that way for a long while, until the storm slowed to a lazy pour and the lightning lost its oomph. Huey didn't know if he fell asleep or not, but Jasmine didn't seem to mind if he did or not. The cloud banks broke open, and sunlight stretched through, touching them both with golden rays from the window. The boy looked up as if he was feeling the sun's rays for the first time. Instead of yellow, he saw green. He realized the warmth he felt had been inside him longer than the sun had been out. This warmth had wrapped her arms around him and brought him to a place he hadn't been to in so long, he nearly forgot it existed. He was at peace.

Sitting up, Huey wiped his nose with the back of his hand before standing up abruptly. He didn't look at Jasmine, but she was fine with that. She smiled, though he didn't see. He still sensed it though. He decided to break the silence first, and held out his hand to her.

"Let's go to the hill."

Jasmine's smile only grew brighter as she reached up and took his proffered hand. "Okay."

Huey didn't smile, but his eyes showed his kindness. In his own way, he thanked her by pulling her up and guiding her out the front door. As they walked hand in hand to the hill to enjoy the view, Huey thought back on the storm. He thought about the lightning and he thought about how the thunder announced its presence in his world with an earth shaking boom. He thought about many things as they climbed the hill and at last he thought about Jasmine. She pulled away from his grasp, dashing the last few feet up the hill to gawk at the sky. He didn't hear the silly words she spilled; he only saw the sunshine reflecting on her wild orange hair. He appreciated her friendship, and realized that now more than ever.

Huey wasn't afraid of thunderstorms. He didn't need to be. He always had sunshine right next to him to keep the dark clouds at bay. Sitting down, he silently enjoyed that sunshine at she chattered away, chasing off the last dregs of clouds with her rays of hope and happiness.

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><p>I hope you enjoyed the story. Please rate and review. All feedback, both positive and critical are welcome. I'd love to improve my craft before publishing my longer stories here. I'm also open to story suggestions, so feel free to PM me with an idea and I'll try writing a short story based on your ideas to help me grow as a writer. Thanks so much for reading!<p> 


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